“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”
― Joan Didion, The White Album
And I got it from our prompt over at the imaginary garden with real toads.
Whisper me your words;
I'll draw them in like silken strings
and wrap them like a fist.
Once to hear you.
Twice to feed you.
Four to see you, again
in my shining eyes.
Tell me your tales;
I'll take your story for a spin
and try it on for size.
Once to hear you.
Twice to feed you.
Four to see you, again
in my dying eyes.
Sing me your serenades;
I'll feel them flutter down my throat
and swallow them: whole.
~~~
There's a good chance I'll regret this in the morning. "This" being: publishing the above poem before looking at it with clearer eyes. Meh. Whatevs. That there's a first draft crafted by a sleepy brain that just wants to lay in bed and listen to music. But also write stuff. Mission (mostly) accomplished. Nighty night y'all.
I think it is gorgeous... love that last stanza.
ReplyDeleteThis is so intriguing... a really complex and impactful air to this poem. Absolutely loved the imagery :D
ReplyDeleteHave a great week ahead :D
eat these words. they are eternal.
ReplyDeleteGreat poem, last stanza esp. loaded.
ReplyDeleteI love this! Your opening lines are fabulous. I so enjoyed your use of repetition. I see no reason for poetic regrets. Thank you so much for participating in the challenge!
ReplyDeletethere is a romantic quality to this poem, i like very much, such a charming write
ReplyDeletehave a creative month
much love...
First drafts are the most creative after that it's the craft. Very interesting and a great read.
ReplyDeleteZQ
Yikes-I love the way your wove your web-intriguing!
ReplyDelete